The Worst Kept Secret in New York
by Donny's Boy
Summary: Did Angel really first meet the turtles in Fallen Angel? What if she'd met them during Things Change? Just a fairly fluffy oneshot with DonAngel. Brief mention of LeoKarai, as well. AU, but based on the 2003 cartoon.


"The Worst-Kept Secret in New York"

By Donny's Boy

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the plot relating to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I am making no money from this story. I mean no harm.

Warnings: Some mature language and some fight scenes (no blood or gore).

It's the worst-kept secret in New York. Everyone knows. You can see it in her eyes—even when they fight, even when she presses her blade into the soft flesh of his neck, her eyes say that she loves him. I think he doesn't realize, though. Behind his blue mask, his eyes also reveal secrets. He loves her. Even though he believes she hates him, he loves her very much.

I only got to see them battle once. From a distance I watched the two ninjas fight each other. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. The only sound was their swords whistling through the air and occasionally meeting in a soft _clink_. Though I could have stayed and watched them forever, I couldn't stay. Had to help the others. I heard later, though, that they both survived. That made me glad, even though I knew I should want her dead.

I hide my secrets much better than she does. The damn ninjas think they are so tough and indestructible, but they can be broken with a single word, a single look. They only survive because they hide in the shadows. When you hide, you don't have to hear the words or see the looks that can break you. Me? I'm a thug. Though I've gone clean—once a Dragon, always a Dragon. And unlike ninjas, I have nowhere to hide if anyone finds out my secrets.

---

One of my secrets is that I once nearly killed Hamato Donatello.

It was a regular heist. An electronics store, I think. I was the look-out, because I was the new girl who hadn't been initiated yet. Hun wasn't there—he was too important for little crap jobs like this—but Jay and Tony and Keisha and some others came along. They were all right. I wouldn't have called any of them friends, but that's because I don't have friends. Having friends make you weak and vulnerable. It gives your enemies a target to aim at. A Dragon couldn't afford to be weak.

It was after we'd gotten back to the hideout that I saw them for the very first time. At first, I was too stunned to react. Even in the dark I could see their white eyes glowing and their weird weapons glinting. Aw, Jesus. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but even then, I had the presence of mind to reach into my coat and take out my gun. Tony was on the other side of the truck and didn't seem to have heard our intruders, so it was up to me. If I lost the loot, I'd be dead for sure.

They didn't see me. One was in the back of the truck, I don't know how he in hell got in there, and was pounding to be let out. The other three stood around and stared. I took a step forward, careful to keep in the shadows. Squinting into the dark, I realized they looked like turtles. Aw, Jesus. Guys in turtle costumes? But they looked too real to be costumes … As one of them approached the truck doors, I raised my gun and wrapped my finger tightly around the trigger. Turtles or costumed freaks or whatever, no way was I going to be responsible for losing the loot.

Then, he grinned.

His grin cut through me like a knife. It was so human. So real. I lowered my gun and stared as he pulled out some screwdrivers. Quickly, almost casually, he dismantled the lock on our truck, and the fourth turtle sprang out. But I kept watching the one with the screwdrivers. Even after Tony spotted them, my eyes didn't leave him. When he pulled out his stick to fight, I stayed back in the shadows so I could watch. I liked the way he moved—how they all moved—quick, fluid, graceful. 

When Hun found out I'd lost the loot, he beat me black and blue. Nearly ended up kicking me out of the gang and probably would have, if Keisha hadn't asked him to let me stay. I always liked that Keisha. During my Dragon days, she _almost_ made me wish I had friends, because I would've wanted her for one.

---

A second secret is that Hamato Michelangelo once nearly killed me.

In the following weeks I found myself thinking about Screwdriver Guy even though I didn't know a thing about him. Not where he lived, not his name, not even what he was. All I knew was he had a killer smile and could take apart computerized vehicle locks. Which didn't make sense. They beat us up and took away our loot, only to turn it over to the cops. Real upstanding citizens. So why did Screwdriver Guy know how to break into a van? It seemed a little too grand theft auto for a guy like him.

Though I wanted to know more, I didn't have my hopes up. It was a totally random meeting that night. Unlikely to be repeated.

But it was less than a month after the failed heist that we ran into them again. This time I fought alongside the other Dragons, and I fought eagerly. Though I tried to get near Screwdriver Guy, I ended up trading blows with the one with the orange mask. He laughed and joked a little as he fought and, despite myself, his lightness unnerved me. Then with one snap of his wrist, Orange Guy's—nunchucks, I think Hun told me later—his nunchunk slammed into the side of my head. As I hit the ground, I swear I could hear my skull splinter and break.

I don't know how long I was out. When I started coming to, my head throbbed with every beat of my heart. Groaning, I tried to open my eyes. No good. As cold unwelcome consciousness washed over me, I heard voices seep through the haze of pain.

"Is that one dead?" It was Orange Guy. He sounded worried, and fuzzily I wondered who he was talking about.

"No. Just out cold." This one was definitely Screwdriver Guy's voice.

"Oh." A third voice. Bitter. Disappointed. "Damn."

Then a fourth voice: "Raph!"

"Hush, guys. Lemme check her head, make sure she doesn't have a hunk of skull lodged in her brain or anything."

Someone reached under my head and slowly lifted it up, and I winced involuntarily. As my eyes flew open at the sudden pain, I found myself looking into large brown eyes. It took a second for my vision to focus and, when it did, I almost passed right back out.

It was Screwdriver Guy, live and in the very green flesh. He leaned over me, eyes narrowed in concern, and was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His thumb briefly brushed over my cheek, and I was surprised that his skin felt warm and dry, not cold or wet. He was real. He wasn't wearing a costume.

"You're gonna be okay," he told me. I was still thinking about the unexpected concerned tone to his voice was when he added, in a motherly tone, "You know, you really should consider a new line of work."

Gently he laid my head back down on the concrete and, before I could even gather my thoughts enough to speak, he was gone. All four vanished back into the night air as quickly as they'd materialized. As I shakily pulled myself to my feet and surveyed my fallen fellow Dragons, who were also nursing bruises and cuts, I reflected that Hun had been right—these guys were definitely ninjas.

---

There are more secrets, of course. There's always more.

His name was Donatello, though he sure didn't look Italian.

I could tell that they didn't remember me, and for that I was glad. As we sped along in—what did they call it, something about a shell?—in their big truck, I found myself marveling that Casey knew these guys. Casey Jones! Casey from the neighborhood. Wild.

As a battered and bruised Casey sat back and relaxed, he teased and joked with the guys, still in the street clothes I'd found for them. I joined right in the teasing because I had to keep talking. To cover my shame. I mean, it was because of me that Casey had gotten caught and beaten and locked up. And everyone in that truck damn well knew that. I could only thank God that in that alley, seemingly so long ago, I hadn't pulled the trigger. If I had, all this would have been even more awkward than it already was.

When we reached my grandmother's house, Casey insisted on walking me to the door. I could tell he still didn't trust me. She invited him in, and of course he said yes. Everyone on the block loved Mama's pie. As we both glanced back over our shoulders on our way in, the guys waved back. Orange Guy—whose name was Mikey, I think—even winked. But I barely noticed it, because I was looking at _him_.

Donatello. What a beautiful name. I hated to leave them. I'd just met them, for crying out loud. But Mama, and pie, were beckoning.

A secret I've kept to this day is that I've never liked pie. Not even Mama's homemade. It'd just kill her if she knew, though, so I've never told her. I've already done more than enough to hurt Mama.

---

One of the secrets that I've hidden the deepest is, despite my loud talk and bluster, I'm really kind of a pushover.

Leaning casually back against the truck, I tried to stay cool. Casey had brought me over to the warehouse to keep me out of trouble. The bastard. While he and Mr. Angry went off to knock heads together, I was supposed to stay put down in the lair. Maybe play some video games with Mikey or something. And I did, for a good hour or so, before I got bored and sick of the sewer smell. So I went upstairs and found Donny tinkering with the truck engine.

So there I was, playing cool. I'd stuffed my hands into my jeans pockets to stop them from trembling, but I didn't think he'd noticed. Actually he didn't once look in my direction while he worked, and I'd just decided to head back down to the lair when suddenly he said, "Wanna help?"

Even though he'd spoken in almost a whisper, his voice echoed loudly off the warehouse walls. I started a little, despite myself. "Me? You … " I took a deep breath. Cool! Be cool, dammit! "So the genius needs my help, huh?" I smirked.

Finally he looked up from the engine, and I almost laughed at the smudge of grease on his beak. He smiled, and his eyes sparkled kindly. "I just figured that since you were watching me anyways …"

The smirk dropped off my face. So he _had_ noticed me. I couldn't decide whether to be happy or scared. Or both. It was funny, in a way—most people were scared of Don because of the way he looked, but I was scared because of who he was. Gentle. Generous. Smart. Way smart, smarter than anyone else I knew. Definitely smarter than me.

But I was still smart enough to keep up the game. I gave him a careless shrug as I said, "Sure. Got nothing better to do. I'll help."

"Great!" He turned back to the truck and, with all the excitement of a little boy on Christmas morning, pointed to a corner of the engine. "We can start with this radiator block. Mind handing me that screwdriver over there?"

This time I didn't almost laugh—I actually laughed, long and hard. Couldn't help myself. He cocked his head, a faint confused smile on his face, but I only shook my head. No way was I going to explain.

Under his direction I rifled through his tool box on the other side of the room and found the right screwdriver. My steps echoed hollowly as I carried it across the warehouse. Once I reached him, he glanced up, hand held out expectantly. Feeling a little shaken up at being so near him, I hesitated just a moment, and an expression of pain passed over Don's usually neutral face.

He thought I didn't want to touch him, I could tell. Even geniuses could be wrong sometimes.

I almost died right there, seeing Don give me that look. Once I'd almost shot him without a second thought, but now, seeing the hurt in his eyes, I felt myself break into a million pieces. Without thinking I dropped the screwdriver and grabbed his still-outstretched hand by the wrist. I heard him gasp softly in surprise. Then, with trembling hands and trembling lips, I bent down and pressed a kiss into his calloused palm.

---

Though I haven't told anyone, they know. After all, it's why I insist on going with them out into the city, arguing that if Casey can come so should I. It's why I always go to the lair to play games with Mike or work out with Raph but somehow always end hanging around the lab. It's why Leo shakes his head so much and Mike grins like a Cheshire cat. It's why lately, Don hums to himself even more than he used to.

It's wrecking my reputation something fierce. Every time Donny walks into a room I'm in, Casey nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. Jerk has surprisingly bony elbows, too. Meanwhile, Mama wonders why I'm more obedient these days, why I'm in a better mood. She thinks I'm on drugs.

It puzzles me and amuses me all at the same time. I used to be able to hide my secrets. I was a Dragon, a thug, a street kid. This wasn't in the plan.

But tonight, as I'm walking through the lair, I notice the long streaks of light peeking out from under the door of his lab. I can't keep this secret because I can't hide from this. I don't want to. The second I open the door and take a step in, he turns at the sound. He smiles, and it's a secret smile. The smile he only smiles for me.

"Hey, Angel."

"Hey there, genius." I smile too. "Whatcha working on today?"

His eyes get that look they always get over a new project. I used to play cool for so long, and still do a lot of the time, that his open enthusiasm for things is sometimes jarring and confusing to me. Mostly, though, I find it cute. Today it's charming the pants off of me.

He motions me over to his workbench and launches right into explanations. I can't follow half of it, but I get the gist of things. New propulsion device for the sewer sliders. Very cool. God, is there nothing this guy won't think of?

But then my eyes shift downward, from his bright eyes to his moving lips. To see is to do. I lean forward and kiss him, cutting him off mid-sentence. He flounders for just a moment, startled, before he kisses me back. I feel his hands move to my waist. When I pull back, I give what I hope is a dazzling and sexy smile.

"Wow" is all he says. And let me say, it feels good to render speechless a guy with the vocabulary of the Oxford English Dictionary.

"You're damn right 'wow.'" I smile proudly and add, "That all you have to say? Admit it. You're totally crazy about me."

Don grins back at me. "I'm totally crazy about you," he affirms, voice soft and filled with wonder. Sometimes I think he finds me confusing too.

I give him another kiss, because he deserves it after being sweet like that. But honestly, though I loved hearing it, he didn't have to say it. I already knew. It's the worst-kept secret in New York.

---

Author's Notes: Sincere apologies if I haven't gotten Angel's character quite right. I haven't seen many episodes with her in it. 10/25: Minor revisions.


End file.
